


A firm hand

by Dusty



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Age Play, Cocoa going cold, Light BDSM, Little Crowley, M/M, Sub Crowley, The art of coming while fully clothed, The threat of rough sex, humping, mild spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2019-08-14
Packaged: 2020-08-23 16:04:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20245546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dusty/pseuds/Dusty
Summary: Crowley acts out in order to be taken in hand. Again. Things get steamy.





	A firm hand

**Author's Note:**

> The mild age play saunters into sexual mild age play, just FYI. It's just subby Crowley to be honest, trying to be a power bottom, and failing.

Aziraphale had made himself cocoa. It was time for a book and bed. He looked about for his demon. 

Crowley was sitting at Aziraphale’s desk smirking at a Tube map on his laptop and sipping the last of the wine from his glass. He moved his index finger over various points on various lines, as if about to choose a location.

‘Crowley,’ warned Aziraphale. ‘You know what I think about signal failures.’

‘I’m doing them outside of working hours,’ explained crowley, quite sweetly. He put his wine glass down and continued to scan for the best junction to disrupt.

‘And you remember what happened last week? When you got stuck on the Northern Line because of a signal failure you created, and you were late to meet me at the opera?’

Crowley grimaced. 

Aziraphale walked over to him and gently closed the laptop lid. ‘That’s enough, my dear,' he said softly. 'Go and get ready for bed, please.’

Crowley slumped back in the chair with a scowl and folded his arms. He was _that close_ to finding the perfect weak spot on the westbound district line. 

Aziraphale regarded him. ‘Do you want me to read you the next chapter of The Humans or not?’

The sulk continued.

‘Fine,’ said Aziraphale. ‘No story. Straight to bed and straight to sleep.’

‘Not tired.’

‘Yes you are,’ said the angel sternly.

Silence. The demon ignored him, then defiantly went to lift the laptop lid. Aziraphale's hand came down on top of his, none too gently, and closed it again.

‘Off you go. _Now._’

Crowley huffed dramatically. He burst out of the chair with a frustrated flounce and gave a nominal kick to the table leg as he moved away. But the desk, being rather old, jolted dramatically. The wine glass wobbled and fell, shattering into several pieces, leaving red wine sediment to ooze and seep into the light wooden surface.

Crowley froze. He hadn’t meant to do that. He looked to his angel in panic.

‘Mend it,’ commanded Aziraphale quietly. ‘I’ll allow the miracle. And make sure there is no stain on my desk.’

Crowley obeyed, snapping his fingers to repair the glass, and blowing the sediment away, scattered into eternity. ‘Sorry,’ he murmured, pushing his hands into his pockets as an icy shame snaked down his spine.

‘Upstairs.’ It was a dizzying command, leaving Crowley a touch breathless. He quickly obeyed and skulked upstairs.

Aziraphale watched him go and took a soothing sip of his cocoa. He closed the book shop for the night with a wave of his hand; lights out, blinds drawn, chairs tucked under tables and everything adjusted correctly for morning. Then he went upstairs, giving some thought to how best to play disciplinarian to his little demon. 

Crowley was sitting cross legged on the carpet by his side of the bed, studying the record sleeve for Queen’s A Night At The Opera. He did not look up when Aziraphale came in.

The angel closed the door behind him, clocked Crowley’s demeanour, and set his cocoa down on the nightstand. Then he went to sit on the edge of the bed, so the demon was occupying the space at his feet. Crowley shuffled backwards to lean against his angel’s legs, face still in the record cover. Aziraphale extended his hand to ruffle Crowley’s hair. How he loved this. The demon leaned back into the touch like a dog having his ears stroked. The gentle petting continued for a good, long minute, before Aziraphale remembered his responsibility to his brat.

‘Put that down, please,’ said Aziraphale softly, indicating the colourful sleeve. 

Crowley did as he was told, very slowly, and returned the vinyl into its cover. 

The angel continued to stroke his hair. ‘Naughty boy,’ he cooed. 

Crowley twisted around and sat on his heels, peering up at Aziraphale, chin pressed onto the angel’s knees. He flushed face formed a pout. ‘Didn’t mean to break the glass,’ he said solemnly.

‘But you did mean to kick my beautiful, antique desk.’

Crowley glanced away, then back up at Aziraphale, and nodded with a very deliberate bashfulness. 

Aziraphale patted his lap. ‘Come here.’

Biting his lip, the demon climbed up and positioned himself over the angel’s knees with an inviting wiggle. 

Aziraphale held him in place. 'I wouldn't look forward to this if I were you,' he said tartly. 'Spare the rod, spoil the demon.' He raised his hand, intent on delivering a smarting punishment, when he noticed the utter absence of contrition from Crowley. The angel narrowed his eyes. Crowley was lying perfectly relaxed, chin on his forearms as if about to get a massage, and peeping up at him with mischief in his eyes.

Aziraphale opened his mouth to speak then felt something. ‘Crowley!’ he admonished, identifying the thing poking into his thigh. ‘That is completely inappropriate.’

'Why?' asked Crowley, eyeing the raised palm still hanging ominously in the air.

Aziraphale lowered it. 'You have behaved like a naughty child and I am going to...'

‘It’s your fault…’ mumbled Crowley, eyes still gleaming.

Aziraphale blinked. ‘What is?’

‘The way you said _upstairs_,’ explained Crowley, rolling his hips.

‘Ah,’ sighed Aziraphale. ‘That’s why you had a record sleeve in your lap when I came in.’

‘Hmmm,’ intoned Crowley, dreamily. He sashayed his hips. 

‘Stop that,’ chimed the angel.

‘Make me,’ drawled Crowley suggestively. 

Aziraphale eyes met his, at first searching, then seductive. ‘Are you sure?’ drawled the angel, half threat, half tease. He raised his hand again. 

The demon canted his hips slowly and deliberately, grinding his cock against Aziraphale’s leg, and emitting a long, filthy moan.

Aziraphale’s heart lurched. He brought his hand down firmly. 

The noise Crowley made was delightful. Half surprise, half raging, filthy desperation. Aziraphale smacked him again, a little harder. The same noise, with everything ramped up all the more. Crowley started to move rhythmically, and Aziraphale started to match that rhythm with the spanking. 

Crowley groaned openly. 'I love it when you're strict, angel,' he rasped. 'I love it when you take me in hand. I love misbehaving for you. I love you manhandling me.'

Aziraphale's breath was becoming shallow. He smacked the rutting demon hard on the bottom, eliciting a grunt. 

'Do you need firmer handling, my dear?' asked Aziraphale, trying to keep his voice steady. 

'Yes,' squeaked Crowley, moving faster. 'Hold me down. Possess me,' he gasped.

The angel responded by pressing down on Crowley's back with his arm. He was growing hard himself, but trying to keep a clear head to deliver measured slaps. He allowed himself to fully whack the clenching buttocks. Crowley cried out and thrust hard against Aziraphale's thigh.

‘My dear, I think you will make a mess if you are not careful.’

‘I won’t,’ said Crowley, with a faux innocence and a lick of his lips. He did not slow his movements, and Aziraphale hit him hard for it. 

This time, the demon’s noise was guttural, sending a tingling frisson through Aziraphale’s ears right down into his groin. The angel was now fully hard and needing friction himself, so he tugged Crowley closer. He could now rub off on the demon's hip. He swatted him again.

‘Harder,’ moaned Crowley. ‘Please, I’ve been so bad.’ He was writhing. 'Punish me, please!'

Aziraphale held Crowley down harder. ‘Right, you,’ he said firmly. ‘Yes, you have been bad. You want a proper spanking. You’ve got one.’

He stopped holding back and spanked his dear boy furiously, rolling his own hips. Crowley did not stop writhing and rutting, but went at it in earnest. Aziraphale hit him again and again. He rained down slaps across the demon’s bottom, sending the sting through the denim, and considered stripping Crowley down and punishing him on the bare. But just as he had the thought, the demon became more animated than ever, grinding mindlessly against Aziraphale’ leg. Crowley arched and came thoroughly in his pants, through his jeans, and all over his angel’s thigh. He rocked himself through his orgasm, crying out his pleasure.

'Crowley!' exclaimed Aziraphale weakly, overwhelmed by the act, and with three deliberate ruts against that bony hip, followed suit. He came with a dry gasp, spurting in his underwear.

Regaining coherence, Aziraphale lifted the spent, messy demon off his lap and quite roughly deposited him face up on the bed, pinning his wrists down and glaring at him. Crowley gave him a lopsided grin. 'Being bad is sooo good,' he hissed, squirming. 

His angel looked cross. 'My cocoa's gone cold,' he complained. 'You were supposed to get a smacked bottom and then go to sleep.'

'Sorry,' said Crowley. 'I felt like something else.'

Aziraphale miracled his cocoa back to hot and moved to lie down beside him. He tutted at the dreadful mess they had both made of his trousers, and heard Crowley snigger. With a pointed look at the demon, who wisely changed his expression to apologetic, he snapped his fingers and cleaned them up. 

'Thanks,' said Crowley, cuddling up to his angel. He watched Aziraphale's chest rise and fall, and the crease between his eyebrows deepen. 'Are you upset with me?'

Aziraphale turned to him with such astonishing tenderness in his eyes, Crowley thought he'd die. 'Surprised, yes. Upset, no. It's sometimes hard for me to gauge your headspace.'

'Oh,' said Crowley.

'We’ve not conflated the two things before. Not while you’re…'

'I wasn’t little.' 

'Weren’t you?'

Crowley bit his lip. 'Maybe a bit?'

'Hmm. That’s okay, Crowley. It’s fine. But let’s keep an eye on it. If you’re having ideas, fantasies, please try to let me know what they are rather than steering me into them. We can make sure we're both in the right place when we're playing.'

'Sorry. Are you cross?'

The angel chuckled. 'Well I think you need a spanking as punishment for your behaviour during this spanking, but I’m afraid we’ll create an infernal vicious circle where I’ll never know rest again.'

'Fine by me,' said Crowley with a wiggle, sensing an eye roll from his angel. He squeezed Aziraphale tight. 'Did you like it, though?'

Aziraphale looked down his nose at Crowley, with steely blue eyes. 'I thought it was disgraceful.'

'Did you like it, though?'

'Filthy, shameless, depraved...'

'Did you _like_ it though?' Crowley was gazing at his angel. 

'Oh _fuck _yes,' whined Aziraphale, his hips twitching. 'I'm going to finish my cocoa, and then I'm going to fuck you into the mattress, so you'd better be ready with our safe word, you wicked, wicked boy.'

Crowley grinned from ear to ear. 'I'm ready, angel,' he said. 


End file.
